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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22589698">i'll see you when i fall asleep</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellawho/pseuds/ellawho'>ellawho</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Happy Ending, M/M, Reddie x Black Mirror AU, Richie can't dance but he very much pretends he CAN, Richie has also a big dick, SciFi Fic, There will be smut and I'll tag it when I write it, These two idiots just meet up in a bar in San Junipero and fall in love, This fic is just very gay bear with them idiots, Top Richie because I say so, alternative universe, reddie au, san junipero au, time traveling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 13:34:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,470</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22589698</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellawho/pseuds/ellawho</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><em>It was called the San Junipero Project, or the SJP, for short. They stuck a chip to the patient’s temple and through a remote they were able to inhibit their senses and send them in a sort of temporary and self-induced coma.</em><br/><em>Their mind was downloaded onto a database to process one’s information, so the patient was finally given access to a new kind of simulated reality. According to most of the people testing it, it pretty much looked like a southern seaside town in California. The weather was mild, the place provided people with everything they needed, and the landscapes were astonishing. Heaven on Earth. With the only exception that, technically speaking, it wasn’t located on Earth. San Junipero was a safe place where one could keep living their life in a more endearing way, when their body wasn’t in the best of shapes.</em><br/> </p><p>Or: what happens when famous comedian Richie Tozier and risk analyst Eddie Kaspbrak hook up in a nightclub that's located in a virtual reality?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddie Kaspbrak &amp; Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i'll see you when i fall asleep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=alwaysalosver">alwaysalosver</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello everybody! this is ella, @BlLLHVDER for my twitter folks. the idea of writing this fic hit me after watching san junipero, yes, that black mirror episode where two lesbians hook up and that made twelve bazillion people bawl their eyes out (me included). so i thought... why not mixing the gay with more gay? and here i am. </p><p>i really hope you're gonna like this multi chapter fic that was meant to be an OS. </p><p>also,, i thought i'd mention that english ISN'T my first language, so bear with me, i'm a self conscious baby. feel free to leave comments and kudos! they're always very welcome and keep me motivated to write more. </p><p>a special thanks goes to steph, beta reader and one of my closest friends, and to aimee, who's convinced me to start watching such a twisted show like black mirror. i love you both so much. </p><p>okay, i'll stop talking now. enjoy the gay!! </p><p>* the title is from the song "<em>Little Talks</em>" by <em>Of Monsters and Men</em>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>June 27, 2020 - Los Angeles. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 9:47 am. </em>
</p><p>Waves kept breaking against the white, indented cliff beneath Eddie’s feet. The wind swirled powerful around his body, he could feel it in his <em> face, </em> against his <em> hands </em> and <em> bare feet. </em>Dark doe eyes glanced down at the bottomless distance between him and the sea, greedy, insatiable and loud, so <em> incredibly </em> loud. The sky was covered by soft, grey clouds that morning. They hovered menacingly over Eddie’s head, hid the sun like a veil. He looked up, right into the blinding light.</p><p>
  <em> His eyes didn’t hurt.  </em>
</p><p>He took another step closer to the edge. His hands clutched the fabric of the coat he was wearing, a brown, leather jacket which looked pretty worn out. <em>It wasn’t his. Eddie wouldn’t wear such a thing. </em> It felt <em> wrong </em> under the touch of his fingers, too light to be leather, too flimsy to be a piece of clothing. Nothing about its consistency made sense to him, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason behind his morbid curiosity. </p><p>Eddie looked down at the ocean once again. The noise was loud and<em> crystal clear </em> inside his ears, so neat and sharp that he had to close his eyes for a moment. <em> It was too much. It was all too much. </em>The wind blew stronger and he swore to his <em> name—</em></p><p>He felt it. He could <em> perceive </em> it. Just right there, against the patches of skin that were exposed, not covered by any clothes. It felt like wind… right? It <b> <em>must</em> </b> have felt like wind… it was <b> <em>supposed</em> </b> to feel like wind… <em> right</em>? But it <em> didn’t</em>. It was much lighter, its touch so feathery that tickled Eddie’s skin to a point where he had to shove both his hands into his pockets and look away. As if that would have helped in any way. As if he could <em> avoid </em> the feeling by just <em> looking away. As if he could escape by just turning his face.  </em></p><p>
  <em> “I don’t like it here.”  </em>
</p><p>He stepped back, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes, words dying in his throat at his attempt to speak again. Then, the last thing he could hear before being met with darkness, was the incessant beeping of the EKG monitor echoing in his head. </p><p>*</p><p>“...<em> exactly what I told you. Any distress or negative emotion will be detected and he’ll be immediately taken out of the software.”  </em></p><p>
  <em> “What if he doesn’t wake up after you remove the chip? What if he remains… trapped?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “There’s no way it can happen, Mrs Kaspbrak. Like I’ve already showed you, our software is provided with the most secure systems. I can ensure that, may there be any complication, our emergency override will be activated on the spot to guarantee the safety of the patient.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“So are you telling me that you got this… thing tested, before?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Actually, we’ve gone past the beta tester phase, Mrs Kaspbrak. More than ten thousand people all around the world have already started using our system, in the past nine months. The number’s still counting.”  </em>
</p><p>Eddie didn’t open his eyes - not immediately. </p><p>He laid still, pretending to be asleep as the conversation between the two women went on. He must have been still dazed, because every single word kept bouncing back and forth from the back to the front of his head, making it pound and spin. </p><p>He suddenly felt nauseous.</p><p>“Eddiebear! You’re <em> awake!”  </em></p><p>Eddie wished he didn’t move his hand in the first place, because the woman’s voice, shrill as ever, snapped him back from the state of trance he was in.</p><p>“<em>Eddiebear</em>?” the woman stretched his hand out so that she could touch Eddie’s arm and <em> repeatedly </em> poke it. </p><p>
  <em> God damn it.  </em>
</p><p>“Yeah… yeah, Ma, I’m…” </p><p>“You’re awake! How are you sweetheart? You okay? You want me to bring you some water? Some aspirin? <em> Some-”  </em></p><p><em> “</em>Yeah, fuck, I’m awake <em> now…”  </em></p><p>
  <em> “What?”  </em>
</p><p>Eddie ran a hand across his face. He didn’t get out of a fucking <em> simulated reality </em> only to wake up to his mother’s annoying voice. “Nothing. I said I’m fine.”</p><p>The other woman walked closer to the two of them, fiddling with some papers that she soon placed down. Her attention was then focused on Eddie, who seemed too busy trying to get rid of Sonia’s grip. A grip that wasn’t <em> just </em> around Eddie’s arm... it had been around Eddie’s <em> throat, </em> too <em> , </em>for quite a while.</p><p>Sonia Kaspbrak has always been a huge obstacle in Eddie’s life. Since he was a child, she would get in the way and made sure things were done according to <em> her </em> decisions. <em> It was the Sonia way, or no way at all. </em> But Eddie was fine, after all. He and his mom had found the balance in their peaceful and <em> healthy </em> domestic environment. Or at least that was what Sonia kept repeating to every single living soul she had the <em> misfortune </em>to encounter.</p><p>“<em>Your son is an angel, Sonia!’ </em></p><p><em> “Oh, why, thank you my darling. Actually, it’s just a matter of mother-and-son bonding. My son is very loving and respectful towards me and I am towards him. Plus, no day goes by without me checking on him. Health is important. Health </em> <b> <em>always </em> </b> <em> comes first!”  </em></p><p>That’s pretty much how the conversations with her acquaintances went. Conversations that generally started with “<em>it’s so nice seeing you again!” </em> and ended with apologetic glances thrown at little Eddie, who patiently waited next to his mom <em> in silence, </em> as he had been <em> tamed </em> to. Eddie though didn’t realize how much of a burden his mother was until his twenties, when he gathered some courage to ask her to help him find some good colleges outside <em> Maine</em>.</p><p>Eddie remembered that day quite well. It was raining outside, droplets of water streaming down the windowpane, silently slipping to the ground. Eddie had been alternating his compulsive pacing around the room with curling up in his bed, hands in his hair and face all scrunched up while he got lost in thought. <em> He was going to do that. He was going to face </em> <b> <em>her</em></b><em>. He was going to quit being a fucking coward.  </em></p><p>“<em>You wanna be a pussy, Kaspbrak? Then go ahead. Be a pussy for the rest of your miserable fucking life.” </em></p><p>He wouldn’t have let those insults get to his head.</p><p>He wouldn’t have remained silent.</p><p>He would have been brave, just for once.</p><p>Eddie sighed and jumped off his bed, feeling dizzy from the sudden drop in blood pressure. <em> “Eddiebear, it’s because you’re iron-deficient. Did you take your vitamins?” </em></p><p>He punched his forehead.</p><p>“Get out of my head. Get out!” Eddie cursed under his breath.</p><p>Ten seconds later he managed to make his way down the stairs. His legs felt weak, his heart raced in his chest, it pounded to a point that it <em> hurt </em> . He could feel it throbbing in his throat, loud and painful. “<em>Eddie, honey, don’t stress yourself. You could get a heart attack. Be careful. And don’t rush down the stairs! You could fall and break your bones.”  </em></p><p><em> “</em>GET OUT!” </p><p>“Eddiebear, are you alright love?” </p><p>Eddie gasped. His cheeks were pale and his breathing had considerably increased. She was definitely going to assume he just had a stroke. <em> That was a mistake. </em>“I’m okay, <em> Ma</em>.” </p><p>His mom got out of the kitchen, holding a rag in her hands. She stood on the doorstep in her usual greasy appearance, forehead covered in sweat, glasses glued to the top of her nose and messy curls that made her look like <em> Medusa</em>. For one moment, Eddie actually feared that if he stared right into her eyes, he could end up being petrified.</p><p>“Eddie, are you having an asthma attack?! Where’s your inhaler?!” </p><p>“No- No, I’m fine, I…” </p><p>Eddie clutched the railing. He diverted his glare, deciding that maybe staring at his shoes would have made things easier. “...I wanna go to college.”</p><p>Oh, <em> wow </em>, that helped. Maybe he could actually go through the whole conversation without getting cold feet. </p><p>“You wanna go <em> where, </em>Eddiebear?” </p><p>“To… to <em> college</em>, Ma.” </p><p>Eddie didn’t lock gazes with her yet. He had no idea what his mother’s expression looked like, but he was pretty sure that if <em> shock </em> could be perceived by hearing, then he would have gone deaf. </p><p>“To <em> college?! </em> But… but you <em> can’t </em> go.” </p><p>“Why?” </p><p>“Because… because <em> I </em> say so. Because it’s dangerous.” </p><p>“How is… how is college dangerous, Ma?!” </p><p>“Because… because kids in college go crazy! They… they do drugs and have… and have sex, <em> Eddiebear</em>.” </p><p>That’s when Eddie <em> finally </em>met her glare. </p><p>“I wanna go to college to <em> study, </em>mom. I don’t wanna go there to do any of the stuff you said!” </p><p>“Don’t raise your voice at me, Eddie.” </p><p>“Then let me go to <em> fucking </em>college!” </p><p>And he did, eventually. It took him more than just that to convince his mom, but he did. Though, managing to step away from his mother wasn’t the same as <em> getting rid </em> of her. And Eddie never managed to get through with <em> that. </em>She would call him everyday, three times a day. Once in the morning before going to class, then at 12:45 pm, during his lunch break, and finally at 9 in the evening, before going to bed. It became ritual. The situation wasn’t any different when he graduated and Sonia pressured him into coming back to her, because <em> she knew how to take care of him. He’d missed her Eddiebear so much in the past few years and she couldn’t wait to have him back home!  </em></p><p>And Eddie did it. He went back to her. He couldn’t say <em> no </em> to his mom. After all, she’d always taken care of him. <em> Right? </em></p><p>Three years later Sonia got sick and they both moved to California, where the doctors said she could be cured. And it worked. One year later she was already doing better, but despite that, they decided to stay in Los Angeles. At that time Eddie had started working as a risk analyst for a big insurance company. The job paid off, the wages were high and he managed to maintain both him and his mom. He liked his job; he really did. He also considered himself <em> really </em>lucky for getting the chance to be hired full time. But sometimes he just wished he’d done something different. Sometimes he wished he didn’t let his mom choose the classes he took in college, sometimes he wished he had the courage to speak up and oppose to her overbearing temper. </p><p>He would have liked to become a doctor. </p><p>When he was younger, he would help his friends with their injuries when they played in the school backyard during recess, or when they would get beaten up by bullies. And he was good at what he did. His friends believed in him, but he <em> never </em> believed in himself. <em><br/>
</em></p><p>Eddie had just turned 30 when it was his turn to get sick - or at least that was what his mother made him believe. According to her, Eddie had been sick <em> all his life, </em> but this time it was different. This time his <em> sickness </em> had gotten to a point where “<em>they couldn’t ignore it anymore”. </em>One day, Sonia came back home waving some sheets before her face. It turned out that those were the results of a test -<em> one of the many </em> - that Eddie had run some months before. </p><p>“<em>The doctors told me your asthma is getting worse, honey. They’ll have to take you under observation.”  </em></p><p>
  <em>“Don’t they have me under observation already?”  </em>
</p><p>The woman shook her head. “This time is different, Eddie.”</p><p>“What did they tell you? That… that my asthma is a chronic condition?! I mean… not a news. We already knew that.” </p><p>Sonia shook her head once again. Her eyes were starting to fill up with tears as she handed the papers over to Eddie.</p><p>“Oh dear Lord, I can’t even bring myself to say it. Here. <em> Read</em>.” </p><p>Eddie snatched the results off her shaking hands, eyes immediately dropping to the page. He tried to read whatever it said, but he failed. </p><p><em> Of course he did. He wasn’t a doctor. </em> But what if he were? What would happen then? Maybe he would be able to self diagnose his sickness. Assuming that he <em> was </em> sick. Because he definitely was… <em> right?  </em></p><p>He never got to know that. What he did know though, was that the doctors appointments increased, and that he started spending more time at the hospital than he did at home. It wasn’t a bad thing if Eddie thought about it. The less he spent with Sonia, the calmer he felt. He <em> loved </em>his mom, he really did, but sometimes she would get on his nerves. Sometimes the feeling of constriction in his chest was accompanied by a feeling of ineptitude, and the trouble breathing was followed by a sense of threatening dread. </p><p>The same type of dread he felt when his mom first told him about this new experiment they were running. It was called the<em> San Junipero Project, </em> or the <em> SJP </em>, for short. They stuck a chip to the patient’s temple and through a remote they were able to inhibit their senses and send them in a sort of temporary and self-induced coma.</p><p>Their mind was downloaded onto a database to process one’s information, so the patient was finally given access to a new kind of simulated reality. According to most of the people testing it, it pretty much looked like a southern seaside town in California. The weather was mild, the place provided people with everything they needed, and the landscapes were astonishing. <em> Heaven on Earth. </em> With the only exception that, technically speaking, it <em> wasn’t </em> located on Earth. San Junipero was a safe place where one could keep living their life in a more endearing way, when their body wasn’t in the best of shapes. </p><p>Anyway, the purposes of this experiment were several: the most common was to give terminally ill people some time off during their cures at the hospital, or making coma more bearable for the ones who were sadly going through it. The most intriguing thing about this new program though, was that this place could be inhabited permanently after death.</p><p>*</p><p>Eddie didn’t get why his mom was insisting so much on making him sign for this project; for a moment he even considered the fact that he might be about to die.</p><p>“<em>Mom… Am I… am I fucking dying?! </em>”  </p><p>“Language, Eddie. And no, you are not dying. I already told you.” </p><p>“Then why are you so obsessed with this damn program?!”</p><p>Eddie pulled up to a red stop; he checked if it was safe to proceed before finally resuming to drive.</p><p>“Eddie, honey, we’ve had this conversation a billion times already. It’s good for your mental health during your stay at the hospital. Plus, the doctor told me that if your body has a positive response to the system, they can let you use it at home.” </p><p>Eddie didn’t appear as excited as Sonia was. But he still wanted to make his attempt and give the whole thing <em> a go, </em>for the sake of his mother. </p><p>
  <em> It was always for the sake of his mother.  </em>
</p><p>“There’s nothing you have to worry about, honey. It’ll be okay.” </p><p><em> If you gave me a fucking explanation, maybe— </em>he wanted to say. But he didn’t. Instead, he slammed both his hands against the steering wheel when a car overtook him. </p><p>“<em>Hey! Yeah you fuckface. What the fuck are you trying to do? You almost scraped my car. Be fucking careful!”  </em></p><p>Road rage distracted him from ‘<em>having your mom constantly talking about some stupid bullshit’ </em> rage<em>. </em> It wasn’t as liberating as yelling at her, but it wasn’t the same as trying to keep it together, either<em>.  </em></p><p>“Eddie, <em> calm down! </em>Don’t expect me to stay in the car if you keep shouting at other drivers! And keep your eyes on the road. We don’t want to crash the car, do we?”</p><p>Eddie sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, raising both his eyebrows. <em> In and out, Eds. Come on. In and out.  </em></p><p>“I <em> am </em> calm, Ma. You’re— <em> you </em>’re just stressing me. But I am, calm. Just,” he paused, taking another deep breath “, just try to keep quiet until we arrive at the place.” </p><p>She didn’t. But it was <em> okay. </em> She was Sonia Kaspbrak after all, and <em> complaining </em> was part of her daily rituals. It was okay, Eddie could <em> handle </em>it. She had talked all along, from the very moment they left the car to when Eddie was shown to his personal testing room, where a nurse helped him lay down on a hospital bed and started explaining the procedures of the test. Ten signatures and fifteen minutes of preparation later, they were ready to start. The nurse applied a microchip to Eddie’s temple and fished a remote from one of the drawers in the room. </p><p>“Are you ready, <em> Mr Kaspbrak</em>?” </p><p>Eddie nodded. </p><p>And then the woman pushed the grey button in the centre of the controller. </p><p>*</p><p>
  <em> July 2, 2020 - Los Angeles  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 8:08 pm. </em>
</p><p>“<em>I told you it’s not something I wanna do.</em>” </p><p>The silhouette of a man stepped away from the window he was standing by, phone pressed against his cheek. His curls bounced at the minimum movement of his head, as he bent his neck to the side, holding the phone between the his ear and shoulder. </p><p>The voice at the other end of the line sounded scornful. “<em>But you must, Richie.”  </em></p><p>Richie’s features twisted into a grimace. “I <em>must?! </em>What is this?! Some kind of…  <em>bound-by-contract </em>bullshit?”</p><p>“<em>I thought you were aware of the consequences that signing a contract with me would have led you to, Richard.</em>” </p><p>“Are you threatening me?”</p><p>“<em>Why would I be doing that?</em>”</p><p>“I don’t know. Sounded like a menace to me.”</p><p>Richie pinched the bridge of his nose. There were so many things he wanted to do right then, and the first on the list was <em> stop talking to his asshole of a manager and focus on the impromptu headache that was making his head feel like it had been poked by a thousand needles.  </em></p><p>A sigh came from the other end of the phone, followed by a brief pause.</p><p>
  <em> “Listen, Rich. There’s a deadline that we have to respect. I talked to one of the members of the partnership and they gave us 48 hours to accept and check into the hospital. I already said yes, we just have to drive there and get ready for the test. It’s all or nothing.” </em>
</p><p>The man turned his face at the huge glass wall that overlooked the ocean. Waves shattered against the shore and then withdrew, rippling with white foam every time they met in the middle. The ocean was loud, it accompanied the gentle screeching of the seagulls that flew over the sea in circles, their wings grazing the orange light of the sunset.</p><p>Richie remembered why he chose that place, when he moved out of his first rental apartment in Los Angeles. He remembered he liked the noise of the sea, he recalled the smell of the salty breeze filling up his nostrils first thing when he stepped into the flat. He’d paced around the whole place with disbelief reflected in his eyes, because he couldn’t bring himself to realize that a man like <em> him </em> could afford a house like <em> that </em> . He remembered looking straight into the estate agent’s eyes and shaking their hand, latching on to it like his life depended on it. And it <em> did. </em>His new life was just about to begin, starting from a simple handshake. </p><p>He didn’t even address himself the issue of living alone in such a spacious flat. He was used to that, <em>the</em> <em>loneliness</em>. The feeling didn’t scare him. There was something about being alone all his life that made him accustom to the idea. Richie Tozier had always been a lonely soul, and he was okay with that. He loved the peace of mind that  one could only achieve in the silence of their room, away from the chaos of the world.</p><p>But then the numbers on his twitter kept growing, and the tabloids kept talking about <em> comedian Richie Tozier’s latest stand up tour, </em>and his fame reached high standards, and all of a sudden his apartment had felt too big, his king sized bed too cold, and his heart too lonely. It was paradoxal. The more famous he would have become, the less lonely he must have felt… right? That made sense to him. But that’s not how it apparently worked. He’d started seeing a therapist because his episodes of depression were getting too intense; he’d even downloaded a dating app, following their advice. It was helping… at first. It was good for his mental health, and a practical way to meet new people, without having to be <em> around </em> them. But Richie’s fear of commitment reduced every romantic relationship he was engaged in to nothing more than a simple fling. </p><p>He’d had… issues, in the past, with accepting his sexuality - above all - but with <em> love </em>itself, too. He had been in a serious relationship for a few years before becoming the famous comedian everyone talked about. It didn’t end well. To put it briefly, Richie wanted to work in show business and was well determined to succeed, while his boyfriend didn’t want to leave his hometown. They split up after long, agonizing months of arguing. Until Richie had promised himself to focus on nothing but his career, and the more the years passed, the more his self-centered lifestyle affected him. “<em>Better off alone” </em>was his motto, and he’d always managed to stand by it. Or so he thought. His house on the ocean, his career, his money, though… will never be enough to fill the void he had inside. </p><p> </p><p>“So,” Richie massaged his temples and tried his best to keep it together.</p><p>“long story short, you <em> are </em> telling me that I am bound.”</p><p>“<em>If you put it that way… yes, yes you are.” </em></p><p>Richie sighed. </p><p>“So what does… what does this… <em> thing… </em>entail?”</p><p>“<em>It’s an ultimate experiment. They call it… SJP or some… some sh—</em><em>”<br/>
</em></p><p><em>"</em>Yeah, yeah, no, I don’t fucking care about what it’s called. I want the <em> details</em>. The technical part. Will it hurt? Will I lose neurons? Will I become a fucking vegetable?” </p><p>“<em>No, God, no Rich. It’s just… it’s a chip… like… a sort of implant. But it’s not permanent. They just glue it to your head and you should be able to enter a… hyper… hyper reality?” </em></p><p><em>"</em>Like a videogame?”</p><p>"<em>Yeah… no… listen, I don’t know. I just know that they want you to sponsor this new company. You’ll get paid- and I mean, we’re not talking about a couple of hundred dollars. We’re talking about… millions of them.” </em></p><p>Richie didn’t care about money, either. He had plenty of it, and he was going to have loads more if he kept working in show business. The point was, what he <em> really </em>needed, was a manager. And he would lose it, if he didn’t accept this offer. </p><p>The comedian glanced back towards the ocean; his eyes met the sky, the birds flying among soft clouds catching his attention. He’d never felt more <em> trapped</em>. </p><p>
  <em> Come on, Rich. Think about it. It’s just a test, just a few hours. You just gotta try it and then what…? Sponsor it through a commercial? You can do this. You’ve done it before. Come on. </em>
</p><p>He sighed again and tightened the grip around his phone.</p><p>Then he replied. </p><p>“Fine. Where do I sign?”  </p><p>*</p><p>The following day Richie was checked into the hospital. He glanced around his room with curious eyes, anxiety bubbling inside him. The nurse’s glances made him extremely nervous; Richie felt like he was getting examined from head to toes — and he had to fight back the urge to stand up and run away. The nausea kicking in wasn’t helping, either —<em> he’d started regretting eating those burritos for lunch</em>. </p><p>“I promise you I showered. My hair just looks naturally greasy.” he said, cracking a smile. Despite it being meant to come out as a joke to break the ice, he guessed that the nurse wasn’t particularly fond of it. So Richie opted for keeping his mouth shut. He was laying down on his bed, stiff as a wooden stick, hands nervously clutching the fabric of his pants.</p><p>“Please relax.” the woman had approached him, holding a little metallic chip in a hand, and a controller in the other. </p><p>Richie swallowed. </p><p>“So… this is it? No <em> forms, </em> no <em> signing… </em> no <em> autographs?” </em>he added with a wink, but the woman, once again, didn’t seem to appreciate the humor. She just numbly stared down at the comedian, unperturbed expression painted all over her features. </p><p>“All the forms that needed to be signed have been faxed to Mr Covall in the previous days. We made sure he sent the papers back once your signatures had been collected, Mr Tozier.”</p><p>Richie nodded, quickly glancing at his manager who was standing right besides him. “Right, right… copy that. And… if I may…” Richie cleared his throat, “...how long will it take?” </p><p>“It depends on how long are you willing to visit. We can’t force you to stay against your will. Just make sure to let us know when you want out.” </p><p>The comedian frowned ever so slightly. </p><p>“And… how would I do that?” </p><p>“We can decide a safe word you’re free to say if this is too much for you, Mr Tozier. The monitor will be able to decipher it. But just know that our software registers every variation in heart rate, so if any sign of distress is detected, you’ll be automatically logged off the system.” </p><p>“Fine.” Richie nodded. “Yeah… so… what about <em> potpourri?”  </em></p><p>“Really Rich?! Why not… I don’t know… <em> stop</em>?!” </p><p>The curly haired man scoffed at his manager’s comment, turning his head towards his direction. </p><p>“...Okay so, imagine this. I’m in a bar, about to order a drink, and I suddenly lock gazes with the barista - and, <em>God, let me tell you, </em>he’s a real piece of ass. So, we  start talking and chances are he’s really into me. So into me that he invites me over at his place and we end up having the <em> best </em> sex of our fucking lives. Now, let’s say he wants to give head, okay, and let’s say I let out a ‘ <em> please don’t </em> <b> <em>stop’ </em> </b>… what the fuck do you think would happen?” </p><p>Both Steve and the nurse were looking at him as if he just committed a murder. Richie smirked; he was used to that kind of reactions. His shows weren’t PG, anyway.</p><p>“Yeah right?! It happens that I get<em> blue balls </em> , man. That’s what happens. So, there’s a specific reason why I chose <em> potpourri </em> as my safe word. Statistically speaking, the chances that I use that word in a conversation are little to none.” </p><p>When Richie finally stopped talking, he laid back down against the hospital bed and settled his thick glasses on place. An awkward silence followed and the nurse took her chance to step closer and finally stick the chip to Richie’s temple. </p><p>“Jesus fucking Christ,” he cursed under his breath. </p><p>Two seconds later, he was met with utter darkness. </p><p>*</p><p>The streets were busy that night; the flickering light of the lamps on the roadside lit up the parked cars and flashed on the store signs. People crowded the blocks, teenagers walking hand in hand, stopping by to stare at the shop windows and excitedly pointing at the stuff they saw. It all looked… <em> suspiciously </em>normal. A normal, ordinary night in an ordinary city with extremely ordinary people. Richie had started wondering what was the whole point of that simulation if everything looked so mediocre. The comedian stepped further into the block, hands shoved inside the pockets of his jean jacket, distractingly meeting other people’s glances as they passed by. He noticed though that there <em> was </em> something off about the way those people were dressed, their clothes too old to be considered of the 21st century. </p><p>Then something inside him <em> clicked</em>. </p><p>His glare shifted from the parked cars to the TVs perched on the electronic shop’s shelves. <em>Too old. It was all too</em> —</p><p>— something caught Richie’s attention. The first notes of a familiar song had started playing from one of the shops nearby. Richie quickly scanned them all, until his eyes fell upon a pink neon sign that read "<strong><em>Tucker’s</em></strong>"<strong><em>,</em></strong> and that stood out for its brightness. It was <em> a nightclub, </em>he figured. The man got closer to the entrance, peeking inside. If he leant in enough, he could see people swinging to the slow rhythm of the song he recognized some minutes before. Richie stepped inside, the music luring him in, attracting his body like a magnet. A wave of nostalgia hit him as soon as the very first words of the song started echoing across the dance floor. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Let’s dance in style, let’s dance for a while.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Heaven can wait, we’re only watching the skies.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hoping for the best but expecting the worst,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Are you going to drop the bomb or not?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Holy shit</em>,” Richie cursed under his breath. It all made sense right then. The music, the fashion choices, the shop windows, the cars… </p><p>“<em>We’re back in the fuckin’ 80s</em>.” </p><p>The comedian couldn’t help but smile, his eyes stuck on the dance floor and on all the people — mostly teenagers — clinging to each other as the song kept playing. The place had mostly fell silent, the chattering temporarily calmed down as everyone seemed to be far more interested in dancing rather than speaking, and Richie then took a moment to observe the whole club. The attention for details was <em> incredible. </em> It was like he’d always seen in movies and tv series, what he’d always dreamed of living <em> in the flesh. </em> Richie missed that period of time by a decade… <em> fuck </em>, maybe accepting his manager’s offer hadn’t been a bad idea, after all. </p><p>He took a quick glance at his surroundings; the club was <em>huge</em>. The main room consisted of a dance floor, a dj set at the opposite side of the room, and a bar area on the right. A group of people gathered around the counter, asking for drinks, as the barman worked non-stop to keep track of their orders. A huge disco ball was hanging from the ceiling, reflecting alternating shades of pink and blue, neon signs that read the name of the place were hung on the walls, adorned with pink and green palms and writings of all kind. Richie walked farther into the club, trying to avoid a couple of drunk teenagers who were stumbling their way towards the bathroom. <em> Forever young </em> by <em> Alphaville </em>was still playing; and the farther inside he went, the louder the music sounded, but Richie didn’t mind. It helped him soothe the loud and incessant stream of his thoughts, and even if it didn’t put it to a stop, it certainly was a good distraction. </p><p>The comedian walked past the bar and then he caught his reflection in one of the mirrors hung above the counter. He stopped, faced it, and <em> stared. </em> Richie openly ignored the fact that people were <em> staring </em> right back at him; he carefully studied his features and the way the system had made a <em> heck </em> of a job in revamping his style. He felt <em> reborn: </em>a blue-ish, open button up shirt that revealed a tight grey t-shirt underneath, and a pair of high waisted jeans that matched his oversized jean jacket, which made Richie’s shoulders look much <em> broader </em> than they already were. The glasses that the system had picked for him were pretty much the same as his usual ones, but a lot thicker; his dark brown curls wildly framed his face — <em>the hair was definitely longer, </em>he noticed. </p><p>“Not bad, Tozier… <em> not bad.</em>” </p><p>The man smirked, proudly running a hand across his messy tangle of untamed curls. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Hey… Elvis Presley! What the fuck?! Try to shove me like that once again and you’ll fucking see, asshole. Fucking try me.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Richie’s hand dropped from his hair as he turned towards the voice. An averagely tall man was standing not so many feet away from Richie and he had just bumped into a <em> very much taller </em>person than he was. That was enough to make the comedian crack a smile, his eyes still stuck on the man. The shorter man dusted off, scoffed, and got ready to walk away. But he must have figured that someone was staring at him, because he looked right into Richie’s direction, and their gazes locked for a long moment. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Forever young, I want to be forever young.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Do you really want to live forever? Forever… and ever.  </em>
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